


Nightfall

by AndromedaPrime



Series: Commissioned Fics [6]
Category: Transformers (Bay Movies), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Dubious Consent, M/M, Mech Preg, Mpreg, Sparklings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-24
Updated: 2014-07-24
Packaged: 2018-02-10 07:29:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2016327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AndromedaPrime/pseuds/AndromedaPrime
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He felt a void where undying, overwhelming love should have been.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nightfall

**Author's Note:**

  * For [eiseedoesit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/eiseedoesit/gifts).



> Commissioned by [eiseedoesit](http://eiseedoesit.tumblr.com/). Also posted [here](http://andromeda-prime.tumblr.com/post/92772920378/title-nightfall-summary-he-felt-a-void-where).

Optimus had to ask himself what he could have done to deserve this.

The predicament he was far from ideal; alone, taken aboard the bounty hunter’s ship to be delivered to his Creators, whomever and wherever they were. He hadn’t an idea of what had become of his Autobots, and there was no possible way for him to contact them. The distance between Earth and the ship was far too great.

His every movement was watched and he could go nowhere that wasn’t within sight of someone loyal to Lockdown or Lockdown himself. Where could he go, he wondered. They were out in the vast expanse of the universe, no planet or moon in the immediate vicinity that he might land on in the scenario that he could escape.

And now, this. He looked down at the medic cleaning the mess between his thighs and the other one repairing his pelvic area and valve before he transferred his gaze to the small frame nestled comfortably in his arms.

Lockdown had taken him three days into their voyage. Cut him down from that trophy case where he’d been hanging upside down in and took him right to his berth. Optimus didn’t have the spark to protest. He had already resigned himself to it, to his fate.

Each day after Lockdown took him, made him spread his legs wide to accommodate the bounty hunter’s frame, valve overflowing with transfluids and gestation chamber full of it. Sometime between the tenth and the fifteenth day the bounty hunter revealed his scarred white-blue spark to the Prime’s deep blue one, and merged them. Optimus was knocked into recharge from the sheer power of that overload, and when he woke up he felt the little spark tied to his.

The Prime could only watch sadly and helplessly over the many following solar cycles as his abdominal plating shifted and swelled outward to accommodate the bitlet. He had wanted sparklings, but not… not like this. Never like this.

Lockdown had become entirely enamored with him when he became sparked, spending his free time with Optimus lying on his berth and caressing the swell of his belly, murmuring in that deep voice of his to the sparkling housed within. Again, Optimus didn’t have the spark to say anything to the bounty hunter, only laying on the berth and closing his optics so he didn’t have to see what he had been reduced to.

He had ruled over Cybertron once, eons ago, ruled with his mate. Now he was stuck aboard a stolen starship, unwilling mate to a mercenary and now carrier of the child he never wanted to bring into existence.

The sparkling moved against him. The golden spark pulsing within her chassis told everyone that the bitlet was little femme. He stared down at her, the tiny frame curled up to his chest. The first thing he had noticed about her, when she had been cleaned of the birth fluids, was her all black color. The second thing had been how much she looked like him, her carrier. She’d inherited nothing from her sire save for her color.

Her tiny mouth opened and she breathed, little hands splaying across the broad expanse of his chassis. She turned her head upward and tiny optics flickered online, looking up at him. The color was near-white with faint traces of azure. Her intakes hitched and she made a strange springing noise, miniscule frame jolting.

“Pity she couldn’t wait until I returned.”

Optimus looked over to the source of that voice and found the bitlet’s sire standing in the doorway to the medical room. Green optics focused on the femme in his arms and his own arms were crossed over his chassis.

“Sparklings will come of their own accord; they wait for no one,” Optimus murmured, casting his gaze back down to the femme. She kneaded her servos on his chassis and opened and closed her mouth, signaling that she was hungry. He parted his chestplates and removed an engorged feeding line, watching dully as she latched onto the end and began suckling.

“So I was told by my medics.” Lockdown unfolded his arms and let them hang at his side as he crossed the room, crouching down next to the low berth. Optimus subconsciously shifted his weight a bit away from the bounty hunter, freeing up some space for Lockdown to sit on. 

The black mech took the Prime up on his offer and sat down, leaning in toward the sparkling and his optics rapt at attention as he watched her feed. Her servos, so small that they probably couldn’t wrap entirely around any one of his digits, were curled up into fists and rested on her carrier’s chest. His optics watched as the Prime’s digits gently caressed her helm and the audio fins at each side. She popped the line from her mouth, smacking her lipplates, bright blue energon dribbling down her chin as a sharp contrast against her black color. The red and blue mech wiped the liquid away. He couldn’t bring himself to smile or acknowledge when she reached out and grabbed at his digits, chirring quietly.

“Let me hold her.”

Optimus stared down at the sparkling for a moment before he reached over to his other side and grabbed a dark blue thermal sheet that had been folded and placed there. He loosely wrapped the little femme in it before handing her over to the bounty hunter and storing the feeding line, closing his opened chestplates. The sight of that proud grin spreading across the dark faceplates was an unnerving sight to the Prime, and he watched attentively as the bounty hunter stood up and began pacing around the room, squirming femme in his arms.

The little one didn’t seem to take the separation from her carrier well; her faceplates shifted into a grimace and she began crying. She wanted her carrier, she wanted the one that had been her safety, comfort, and her love and home. She hiccuped and wailed, optics tearing up.

Lockdown made a soft shushing noise, smiling down at the bitlet in his arms. “You’re fine. I’m here.”

She stopped whining, staring up at the mech critically. Her spark recognized the voice from some faraway place, when she had been surrounded by warmth and gold. She realized she was perfectly safe.

He gently bounced her up and down with a tenderness he hadn’t seen nor felt nor utilized in eons. She yawned widely, silvery-grey glossa flaring out to taste the air. The bitlet cooed softly, optics dimming and closing as she went into recharge. Servos went to rest near her helm, opening and closing as if practicing their grip.

“Beautiful and dark, like the night. I work best in night, you know.” He walked over to the wide window in the medical room that looked out to the stars. “The darkness is my friend. It affords me the ability to hide and do my work quickly; no one ever expects me during the night. I hunt, strike, kill if needed, during the darkness of the night.”

The stars passed by slowly, twinkling. He sighed and adjusted his grip on the sparkling so he could lean down and kiss her on her helm crest. She made a soft noise and yawned. A servo reached down and grabbed at the thermal blanket she was wrapped in.

“You remind me of the night and darkness that is my comfort and my comrade. In its honor, your name will be Nightfall.”

Optimus lay on the berth, helm against the wall. He had closed his optics and tried to drift off to a light recharge after he had given the little femme to her sire, but he had reopened them when he heard Lockdown begin talking to their daughter. His dimmed blue optics flickered over and stared at Lockdown in front of the wide window that gave them all a look into eternity. The mercenary was quietly murmuring to the sleeping femme. He sounded proud and happy.

The Prime sighed softly and turned his helm to the side, placing his servos over his chassis. He had carried her, suffered through the torrents of kicks and punches she had unleashed on his internals. He had screamed, with no one to comfort him, no one to hold his hands, as he pushed her from the wet and warm world of his gestation chamber into the cold and large world that was her sire’s spaceship. She had cried when she had been taken out of him and then taken away from him.

All that. And he felt next to nothing for her.

He hated Lockdown. He hated the mercenary, and the circumstances in which they had produced a child together. But he gazed at Lockdown, who gently stroked Nightfall’s helm, murmuring softly to her. Completely focused on her.

She didn’t cry for him. She loved her sire, despite the numerous flaws that outnumbered any good traits he might have had.

Optimus closed his optics and thinned his lipplates. His spark ached for the sparkling he couldn’t bring himself to love and care for, outside of doing the most basic and necessary things for her. He felt a void where undying, overwhelming love should have been.

At least Nightfall’s sire doted on her and adored her.

Because he knew he could never give her that.


End file.
